


Crossing Paths in Anyder

by ShadowMeowth



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Akadaemia Anyder Years, And Quite a Bit of Ancient!OC's, College Life in the Ancient Way, Gen, snippets of life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowMeowth/pseuds/ShadowMeowth
Summary: Three young applicants to Akadaemia Anyder meet in a bench in the Bureau of the Secretariat. Their life as students will be the catalyst of myriad stories that transcends the boundaries of time, space and a shattered star.
Relationships: Hythlodaeus & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Igeyorhm/Lahabrea (Final Fantasy XIV), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Hythlodaeus, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (one-sided)
Kudos: 5





	Crossing Paths in Anyder

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** So I gathered my ideas, I decided to snap out of writer's block and get this out of my head. For those who do not know how I work, I write first in Spanish, then translate to English. So pray forgive any weird grammar structure or stupid mistakes.
> 
> As for the work itself, my Ancient!WoL is named Nike. I know most of female Ancient!WoLs are Persephone because of Hades, and I myself am an avid consumer of those works, but in my WoL's case, it was one-sided. The how, and if it might have become a thing if stuff happened, I will leave it to how the story unfolds.
> 
> However, while I call it a "story", it would be more accurate to say it is a collection of Ancient!WoL, Hades and Hythlodaeus' student life in Akadaemia Anyder. It may go after that, I do not know yet. Let us treat it as a series of one-shots and then we shall see.
> 
> And you will be seeing a lot of OC's around here, mainly the Trio's classmates. Those are my OC's Ancient selves. I have my own backstory here, but you will be discovering them bit by bit.
> 
> And yes. I do suck at figuring out chapter titles.

How could waiting whilst she sat on a stone bench could be so horribly frightening, Nike wondered as she nervously clutched her black robe’s fabric in her hands.

Truth be told, it was not the only scary thing about the whole picture. The journey across the sea had perhaps been the worst. Or finding herself amidst the metropolis of Amaurot, the heart of the star, feeling terribly out of place despite the writ she carried with her.

A girl from a town far, far away from the great cities, arrived in hopes to study in the capital city. In Akadaemia Anyder, no less. It seemed rather surreal.

And perhaps it was merely her imagination, paranoia or whatever persecutory thoughts she might had, but Nike had the nagging feeling that ever since she set foot in Amaurot, something about her gave off the telltale vibes of “countryside girl”.

She hated to admit it, but the metropolis terrified her. The gleaming spires, the elegant squares, the sophisticated inhabitants. The largest building she had ever seen until then was her village’s Council tower, and there were residential blocks in Amaurot twice as high.

 _What am I doing here?,_ she asked herself for the… well, she had lost count of the times in the space of time of walking from the port to the Bureau of the Secretariat, from where all bureaucracy in Amaurot was handled, especially in the Polyleritae District. It was only natural, though, since many of the most important institutions of the capital were located there, Akadaemia Anyder among them.

The answer to her question, less existential than the one she was looking for, was that Akadaemia had opened the yearly term for applications for new students. In theory, all students who completed the intermediate level of their education could apply, but since it was the most prestigious educational institution in Amaurot and therefore the world, the applications approved were of those whose academic record was particularly brilliant.

Most of the students were Amaurotines or from some other city in the continent. Nike was an exception, and not only because she was an overseas applicant, but because the letter she carried with her was a recommendation from her former institute to course her high studies at Akadaemia Anyder. Apparently, her record had been brilliant enough for her teachers to write it.

The problem Nike saw there, of course, was the differences between her small hometown’s concept of “brilliant” and _the bloody capital of the star’s._

The wait seemed to last an eternity. The secretariat clerk was calling applicants by name, and obviously not only hopeful youths were there, but also other citizens that needed to solve bureaucratic matters. But, as it was to expect, that day there was quite the abundance of future students there. Or future rejects, Nike could not help but think as she gulped. She had entered the waiting hall almost stealthily, hoping to find a free seat, but this was the great capital and her luck merely granted her having to sit on the same bench as another applicant, the first on the left of the front row. It was relatively isolated, aye, and to be fair its formerly lone occupant did not even seem to have noticed her presence, but either way Nike felt observed _and_ judged.

Damn it. She was not used to such high levels of stress. Her hometown was rather calm and uneventful, and she had never given much consideration to how much she stood out in her studies. And now, right after setting foot in the streets of Amaurot, it was what worried her most.

 _Well_ , she told herself, trying —not that it helped much— to get something positive out of the situation, _whether or not they admit me, at least I’ve learned a thing from my visit to the capital: I have social anxiety._

“Myrias Anaxyleia…”

The clerk’s voice startled her more than it should have. A young applicant left her seat and went to the counter, and Nike cursed to herself. She was supposed to be old enough to apply for a high grade, not a scared child unable to fend for herself the moment she was away from her family.

She felt a knot in her throat. Saying goodbye to her parents and her little brother had been the hardest part of all of this. They had seen her leave, excited and proud of the daughter who would have a brighter future than the one that awaited her if she stayed in her small coastal town, and yet Nike had sensed their sadness at having to part ways.

Great, she had just arrived in Amaurot and she was already homesick. Crud, she thought, annoyed at herself, as she sneakily tried to wipe away the tears in her eyes from under her mask.

“… May I?”, a voice said all of a sudden to her right. Nike gasped, which —this time it did— earned her a sidelong glance from the young man sitting to her left. As she tried to readjust her mask, she saw that the one who spoke to her was another young man, with soft features but a mischievous hint in his smile. Long, straight chestnut-brown strands escaped from the shadows of his hood.

“May you, what?”, was the first thing that came to her mind, in an attempt to buy time as she regained her composure. Her interlocutor cheerfully chuckled and gestured to the stone bench.

“May I sit down, what else? I wouldn’t bother you if not needed, but as you see, there’s not a single free seat in the house.”

Nike looked around. Indeed, the rest of the benches were occupied, with three people in each of them. She looked at him, then at the seat, and briefly grimaced before nodding reluctantly. Too much closeness for her liking, and apparently the young man to her left thought the same because an annoyed snort escaped his lips as she moved closer to him to make room for the newcomer.

There were a few moments of silence in which Nike reflected on whether there was anything more uncomfortable than being squeezed on a bench between two strangers in the big city whilst waiting for the clerk to call her name, but then the young man who asked her for a seat decided to add a new level of awkwardness when he engaged in conversation. With her.

“First time in Amaurot, right?”

Crud. Was it that evident?

“Aye”, Nike replied, somewhat defensively. “Got any problem with that?”

“Of course not”, her interlocutor laughed. “’Tis just that if you get any more tense, you’ll end up blowing something up. The great capital has an extensive record of astounding outlanders, but you seem to be carrying the hopes and expectations of a whole town.”

He said it casually, but Nike stared at him. How could he get that close to the point? Damn him.

“My teachers had to go through loads of paperwork to get me the recommendation writ”, she said, unconsciously closing her fingers around the letter she kept in her robe’s folds. “If I can’t get into Akadaemia, I’ll fail each and everyone of those who believed in me. I wouldn’t be here if not for them.”

“Ah, an overseas student. That explains it”, he said, smiling widely. At the murderous look Nike shot him, he made a conciliatory wave. “There were others like you last year, and I think I’ve seen a couple around here for this one. Do not worry, though; the first days are the real mayhem for you and yours, but you’ll get used to it sooner than you would imagine.”

Nike frowned, trying to figure out if he was teasing her or not. She decided to go on a tangent.

“Last year, you say?”

“Well, yes. I got into Akadaemia last year, but let’s just say I graduated a bit earlier than expected”, he admitted as he ran a hand through his hair under his hood, revealing more chestnut-colored locks. “Luckily for me, one thing does not affect the other, and I was allowed to reapply for admission because, and I quote, ‘my abilities save me from being an incorrigible troublemaker with no other future ahead but cleaning of cubus Polyleritae’s streets'.”

Nike was about to make a comment on that revelation, but a voice to her left was faster; a voice that, if probably rather indolent, in that moment had a tinge of disbelief.

“You were expelled from Akadaemia? And you were granted permission to reapply?”

The bench’s third occupant, who had remained silent ever since Nike sat next to him, had come out of his lethargic state and for the first time was paying attention to the conversation his seatmates were having. His features were sharper than the other young man, and short strands of white hair covered part of his mask.

“I will admit it _is_ exceptional, but an outcome no less welcome”, the questioned replied, his smile never faltering. “Not many people have been expelled from Akadaemia, much less in their first year. I think my predecessor was kicked out in his fourth year when they caught him diving naked in Ichthyology’s water tanks and feeding those engendered sharks Lord Mitron keeps there, and if I remember correctly it was because he lost a bet.”

As the young man to her left raised his eyebrows enough to notice behind his mask, Nike stared at the one to her right.

“In his fourth year? What in blazes did you do to be expelled in your _first_ year?”

“Oh, well…”, he gave her an amused smile. “Let us say I came up with an idea to improve Lord Lahabrea’s horses with a series of new features, some of them rather _lit_ , and I sent him the essay he asked us to write about the principles of elemental phantomology hanging from the neck of one of them. I’m afraid I went overboard playing with fire, and the horse probably did too, judging by how his office ended up.”

“You set ablaze one of the Convocation’s members’ office with _a_ _fire horse?!_ ”, the young man to her left could not quite believe the tale, and Nike felt a bit stupid for not knowing what on the star a horse was. Probably one of those sophisticated creations they made in the capital.

“It was a practical application of the essay’s theory! It got a little out of hand indeed, but those who aren’t willing to take a gamble shall never stand out, my friend.”

“The whole thing seems quite more serious than simply ‘getting out of hand’ to me”, the other applicant growled. “And I am _not_ your friend. I don’t even know your name.”

“Certainly! How rude of me”, Nike had to admire how casually, to say something, he was. “Even more, considering we are supposedly going to attend the same class. Let me introduce myself then, my classmates-to-be.”

“… Is it truly necessary?”, Nike heard the other young man mutter under his breath, and she sensed in his aura that he deeply regretted entering the conversation. Although she herself did not know what to make of the second-time-applicant, the truth was he had made her forget how uncomfortable and out of place she felt, so she nodded with an exaggeratedly resigned sigh.

“I am Hythlodaeus Raphel, better known as ‘that incorrigible rascal’ by most of my teachers throughout my life, but amongst friends Hythlodaeus is fine”, the young man raised a hand to his chest and bowed his head, always with that mischievous yet warm smile on his lips. The other applicant let out a huff while Nike chuckled despite herself.

“Nike Lotice”, she conceded as she brushed back whatever strands of silvery hair that might had covered her mask, and shook Hythlodaeus’ extended hand. “As you said before, I’m an overseas student. If they let me in, of course.”

Hythlodaeus laughed warmly.

“They will let you in, you’ll see. And you shall be a student like few Akadaemia has ever had the honor to host. You will rise high, my friend.”

“So aside of being an unrepentant troublemaker, you’re a prophet as well?”, the other young man grumbled. He had thrown his head back in an attempt to lean against the seat and evade himself from the conversation, but he was obviously still listening. Nike got the feeling that he had just gotten himself too deep for Hythlodaeus to let him get away, and that was exactly what happened seconds after.

“Not that I know yet, but could you imagine? Then Akadaemia would have no other choice but to readmit me, if only to make me a research subject”, Hythlodaeus made an eloquent wave to him. “But what about you? For someone not interested in formal introduction, you’re paying quite a bit of attention to this chat. Could it be that mayhap you planned to take advantage of this bench’s privacy to court the lady?”

Nike almost dropped the letter from her hands at that, but her reaction was nothing compared to the peculiar half-gasp-half-snort that escaped the up-until-then indolent young man, who straightened as if struck by lightning, his face —unfortunately for him, not even concealed by neither his mask nor his hood— flushed red.

“What— I would’ve never thought of— Why would I—”, he mumbled, and finally, after some other incoherent muttering to himself, snapped at Hythlodaeus, “I don’t even know why I bother trying to apologize for your _absurd_ speculations!”

“Ah well, then I’ll make it easier for you”, Hythlodaeus did not even flinch at his outburst. “If you don’t want me to keep speculating, then you _could_ introduce yourself. If not, who knows if I’ll be going around telling people that I think your name is Pleuron, or Makhanides, or mayhap Onomakhritos…”

“Please stop talking”, the young man protested, and Nike could not blame him, because Hythlodaeus seemed to be randomly reeling names from Amaurot’s most baroque repertoire.

“… Or Demosthenes, though now that I think on it, you’ve rather a Kalikhrates vibe. Or maybe I am interpreting your aura’s color and you are more of a Kleombrothos, perhaps even Eurymachus, or is that hue a sign of Leotikhides? Hmm, my sight may be fooling me, and deep down you are a Nikomaedes?”, Hythlodaeus tilted his head to Nike with a mischievous smile. “What do you think, Nike?”

“Uh…”, she was not entirely sure if she wanted to watch as the young man cringed more and more to each name, but the question caught her off guard and her brain a bit slow to spin two coherent thoughts in a row.

“Hades”, the young man suddenly said, barely a whisper. Nike and Hythlodaeus turned to him at once.

“You were saying?”

“Hades!”, he repeated, higher and clearly embarrassed. “Hades Sheol. That’s my name. Now just leave me alone.”

Unsurprisingly, Hythlodaeus completely disregarded his hostility and extended to him a friendly hand.

“Nice to meet you, Hades! We will be great friends, of that I have no doubts.”

“Well you’d better have”, Hades muttered, deliberately ignoring Hythlodaeus’ outstretched hand, and Nike, sitting between both, could not help but agree with him, considering the whole situation.

But, to be fair, she had never met anyone as insistent as Hythlodaeus before, either.

“In that case, if I err my point, I’ll have given you ample argumentation to debate in the Hall of Rhetoric about whether first impressions influence lasting friendships, but I warn you, I won’t go easy on you.”

Hades huffed. _But he’s gotten himself into this mess, much to his chagrin_ , Nike thought, amused despite herself at the young man’s tribulation. She must have smiled more than she should, because Hades shot her an annoyed glare, at which she cleared her throat and tried to put on a stony sort of look.

“… He won’t leave me alone until I shake his hand, right?”, Nike was genuinely surprised when Hades asked that question directly to her, obviously resigned to give in. Not knowing what to say, she shrugged and tilted her head towards Hythlodaeus, who widened his smile and waved his hand in front of Hades’ face.

“There you have it.”

“Alright, you win this once”, Hades finally gave up, brusquely shaking Hythlodaeus’ hand before letting go as if it burned. “Never before in my life have I met anyone this annoying, and I could mention quite a few names.”

Hythlodaeus laughed at that.

“But none of them is anywhere near me, are they?”

“If there were more like you I would have flung myself from the top of Achora Heights long ago. I’m tempted to intervene to not let… you’re called Nike, right?, be caught in whatever fell, _insane_ messes you’re going to cause at Akadaemia.”

“Well, well! Turns out he’s even got a gentlemanly side. Would you look at that! I had almost come to think you’ve got no blood in your veins, but prick for a while and there’s a _reaction_ out of you!”

Nike did not quite know whether to laugh or not at Hythlodaeus’ self-confidence and Hades’ sarcasm, but in that moment the clerk called from the counter:

“Nike Lotice…”

Her name. Her turn. She immediately sat up and tensed, feeling her nervousness in her stomach again, her fingers twitching over the recommendation writ. That fear again, of the city, its people and her own validity.

“It seems your turn has come”, Hythlodaeus smiled reassuringly. “Pray do not let me keep you.”

“He says now”, Hades sarcastically huffed, but he nodded at her, as if to encourage her to answer the call. “… Good luck.”

Nike could not help but smile. She had the feeling she had just made two new friends. Quite eccentric, each in their own way, and diametrically opposed to each other… but friends nonetheless.

“Thank you both”, she said giving them a sincere small bow. “Truly.”

She was going to say something else, but the clerk’s voice rang once more, more urgently this time:

“Nike Lotice…?”

Hythlodaeus’ smile widened.

“Fare you well, my new friend. May you find what it is you seek.”

Hades enforced his words with a grunt, shrugging as if to say, “what he said”.

Nike took a deep breath, and overcoming her fears, she walked to the counter in pursuit of the path that brought her to Amaurot, and that would take through Akadaemia Anyder if the fates were kind.

* * *

A couple of days later, in her room in Achora Heights, Nike had to score a point for Hythlodaeus about his predictions during that first meeting.

Because, as stated in the writ she received from the Bureau of the Secretariat, she had been admitted as a student in Akadaemia Anyder.

As she searched for a tell-crystal to give her family the great news, the young woman wondered how many of his predictions would come true. Especially since that morning she had found two notes written by two different hands stuck to her door.

_“Greetings and regards! I hope you still remember me, the incorrigible rascal you met at the Secretariat. Mayhap you’ll be glad to hear, or mayhap you’ll wish to go back home, to know that Akadaemia has readmitted me as part of the new batch of students. Now seriously, I have seen your name writ in the list of the admitted applicants, and I am deeply, sincerely happy for you. You’ll see how bright you can shine! And since I’ve already got a bit of experience, it shall be an honor and a pleasure for this humble troublemaker to help you with anything you need in your new life in the great capital._

_P.S.: Hades has been admitted as well! I have the feeling these years to come will be_ quite _interesting.”_

 _“First of all, I admit I’m terrible at saying these things, but congratulations. For getting in, you know. I have been admitted too, so I guess we will be seeing each other at Akadaemia. I guess, since you’re new and all that, I could try help you if there is anything you require. (Unless you get into that guy Hythlodaeus’ sort of mayhem. For the record, I am_ not _getting involved in any mess such as those.)”_

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** Spoiler (not really): he did get involved. /insert surprised Pikachu face
> 
> I decided to give the Ancients a surname simply because the secretariat clerk says the WoL's full name when calling them. Let us say it is some sort of family name or son/daughter-of kind of thing as it was in Ancient Greece. Nike's last name is a reference to a character in Final Fantasy Tactics A2; Hades' is the name of the Underworld in Jewish tradition; as for Hythlodaeus, it is merely playing on the fact his character from Thomas More's Utopia is called Raphael Hythlodaeus.
> 
> Hythlodaeus' hair in many works is white, but I imagine him with brown hair. Can you guess why? :)
> 
> Also shamelessly making a throwback (throwafter?) to the WoL's meeting with Hythlodaeus in Shadowbringers. Catch the references.


End file.
